


50 Days and nights: a story of courtship and confusion

by Soraya (soraya2004), soraya2004



Category: Babylon 5, Babylon 5: Legend of the Rangers
Genre: Established Relationship, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2005-05-08
Updated: 2005-05-29
Packaged: 2017-10-14 19:43:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soraya2004/pseuds/Soraya, https://archiveofourown.org/users/soraya2004/pseuds/soraya2004
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David decides to court Dulann the traditional Minbari way</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Prologue**

It didn't matter how many times Marcus assured him that Neroon was just a big teddy bear, or how often he saw Neroon in a domestic environment, the Minbari made him nervous.  Of course, it didn't help that Neroon loved having that kind of effect on people.  Nothing was ever simple with him.  Not walking into his study, which apparently required a full entourage of guards and servants, or receiving guests, and certainly not begging for a favour like this.  

Neroon's scowl was far from pretty, and David had to work very hard not to fidget in the face of it.  "So, you'll help me?" he asked again.

This time, he'd tried injecting more pathos into his plea, just the way Marcus had coached him.  And, standing behind Neroon, Marcus was smiling, silently telling him what a great job he was doing.  Still, it seemed to take forever.  Several long agonising minutes passed during which David seriously considered getting on his knees, though he hoped it wouldn't come to that.  

Eventually, Neroon sighed before giving a sharp nod of his head, just as Marcus had predicted he would.  "It would be an honour to help one of my mala's closest friends," he said.  

In all honesty, David hadn't expected their plan to work.  He'd gone to Marcus for advice, and to be handed this solution . . ..  The relief he felt was so intense that he was left practically gasping.  "Thank-you, Neroon, thank-you so much!"

Neroon just dismissed his gratitude with a wave of his hand.  "Just tell me why, David," he demanded.  "*Why*? Are there not warriors aplenty in my clan? Could you not find a mate there?"

"Neroon!" Marcus yelled.  "I can't believe you said that.  You promised!"

The shrug Neroon gave in response was as eloquent as if he'd uttered the words: 'What have I done?'

But Marcus wasn't fooled for one second.  "Don't try that innocent act with me; you know *exactly* what I'm talking about," he added.  

Several of the guards in the room looked away, clearly trying not to laugh. And at any other time, David would have joined them, because somehow the idea of the Warrior Caste leader as a slightly hen-pecked husband had never occurred to him.  But he was too wound up from the stress of being there in the first place to see the humour in the situation.  "What do you mean 'he promised'?" he asked, getting to his feet, a wild panicky feeling rising in his chest.  He looked from Neroon to Marcus then back again.  "I thought you liked Dulann!"

Neroon's dark eyes flashed, showing his impatience.  "Of course I like him," he said dryly.  "*That* is why I consent to such torture! Dulann is a fine warrior, and he is not afraid to speak his mind even to me.  I simply do not understand his Caste or their excessive fondness for ritual!" He shuddered visibly before standing up, straightening his tunics and turning to face his husband.  "Come, Marcus, we must prepare ourselves for this ordeal."

Marcus drew a finger down Neroon's cheek with a kind of easy affection that made David's heart ache.  "Zha'aia, know that I will be with you every step of the way," he said.  

It was always like this between the two of them, and though David felt like an intruder watching these moments of intimacy, he couldn't look away.  He watched as Marcus pulled Neroon close, stealing several deep kisses, which Neroon seemed absolutely willing to give up. Then, Neroon strode out of the room taking the majority of their entourage with him, no doubt to begin his preparations for the ordeal ahead.  

David thought the study seemed a lot smaller without them.  To his surprise, Marcus didn't follow his husband; instead, he took the seat Neroon had just vacated, taking plenty of time to settle himself comfortably.  

"So, David," Marcus said in a tone that was light and conversational.  

"What?" David replied, wary all of a sudden.  He'd learnt the hard way never to trust a genial Marcus Cole.  

"If Neroon is going to be your father, does that make me your step-dad?"

"Oh, will you knock it off!" he snapped.  

"Now, don't be like that, son."

"Marcus, I'm warning you-- "

"I've always wanted a child," Marcus interrupted him, blithely ignoring the threat.  "Obviously, not one as tall or as hairy as you are, but still children would be nice.  At least two; yes, one boy and one girl; that would be perfect . . .."

David closed his eyes, trying to tune out Marcus's ramblings.  This was only the beginning.  He knew he had to get used to this and soon, because he had fifty days of this to come.  After that, if he were very lucky, he would have a whole lifetime of this kind of madness to look forward to.

  
 **End - Prologue**

  
Minbari language translations:  
******************************  
Mala = Husband  
Zha'aia = One Heart (an endearment similar to Sweetheart)


	2. Day I

_POV: Selise_

It takes a great deal to unsettle my husband. Among Minbari, Ashan is known for maintaining an air of calm in all situations. That is why he is one of our most trusted diplomats. However, the sudden arrival of two shuttlecrafts in one's front garden, complete with a full squadron of Warriors, would be enough to alarm anyone.

To his credit, Ashan recovers quickly enough. Welcoming our guests into our home, he slips into the role of host with apparent ease and there is little to suggest even a shred of turmoil at this most unexpected of visits. Yet, I can sense his disquiet over our bond; it grows within him even as the social chatter fades into the awkwardness of silence.

We sit facing each other: my husband, my son and I on one side of the table, and Shai Alyt Neroon, his husband Marcus and Dulann's id'Minbari friend David Martel on the other. As always, the Shai Alyt is accompanied by his personal guards, who try their best to appear inconspicuous, but their mere presence casts an air of solemnity over the room. It feels like we are about to enter into a treaty negotiation; and, as the silence drags on, I realise it will fall to me to open the proceedings.

"Shai Alyt Neroon," I begin, my voice low and neutral. "To what do we owe the honour of your visit?"

My line of questioning is simple, for I have neither Ashan's patience nor his skill in manipulating words. Still, my question seems to unnerve our guests. Something passes between them, something that speaks of tension and wariness, before the Shai Alyt answers.

"May I present my son: David ra Fi'sularae," he says.

I look from Neroon, to David, to Marcus, then back again to David. The young man in squirming in his chair, throwing nervous little glances at Dulann. His forehead is dampening with water - a mark of great anxiety in id'Minbari. And in that moment, the reason behind all the tension I've been sensing is clear. His son . . . Shai Alyt Neroon has come to our home to present his son to us! The enormity of the situation makes my head spin.

As usual, Ashan is slower to catch on. He looks toward the door, no doubt bracing himself for the arrival of a small child. After all, Neroon and Marcus have been married less than two cycles; a child of their bodies would be little more than a babe in arms; but when none such appears, Ashan touches my mind in confusion.

I do not share my suspicions with him; there are some revelations a husband must come to in his own time, and in truth I am still reeling from the shock of my own. In the end, his gaze falls on Dulann's id'Minbari friend and suddenly he too understands.

"*Oh*!" Ashan says. He scratches his head, he stares at David, his mouth falls open and, for a long time, nothing comes out. Now, truly I am stunned because my normally articulate husband has been rendered speechless twice in one day! Eventually, Ashan says, "Forgive me, Shai Alyt, I was not aware you had started a family."

"It is a recent development," Neroon admits, sounding weary and put-upon. Leaning back, he gives his mate a sour look. Clearly, there's a story behind it, one that we are certain never to hear.

Thankfully, Ashan's eloquence reasserts itself along with his composure. "Indeed," he says, and the corner of his mouth twitches into a small smile. "Quite recent, I would imagine, given your new son's rather advanced age!"

This is where Dulann gets his appalling sense of humour. His father can be irreverent and exasperating at every turn. However, this appears to be the perfect response. Neroon smirks, Marcus smiles, David drops his head in his hands, and the tension in their bodies just seems to evaporate.

I am not so easily calmed.

Ashan, of course, senses this. He takes my hand in his and he squeezes it gently. His actions do not give me comfort, and perhaps they were not meant to. For how can anything comfort a mother for the loss of her child?

I have known this day would come, from the moment my son returned from Tuzan'oore three cycles ago, his eyes sparkling, and his heart full of laughter and tales of an id'Minbari, who had become his friend. When he'd spoken of an instant connection, a rapport that seemed effortless and a meeting of minds that transcended their differences in culture, I knew then that his soul had found its mate. For it was the same with Ashan and me many cycles ago.

All that remains is for Dulann to acknowledge the feelings he has kept hidden from himself all this time. And, if I read my son correctly, those feelings are buried so deep he is blind to what they signify.

He sits quietly by my side, pretending to listen while his father draws the Shai Alyt into a dreary discussion about politics. Inside, he is off-balance, struggling to find his centre. Opposite him, David is even less serene; he sighs and fidgets and does everything in his power to capture Dulann's attention. He cannot stop staring at my son, and his eyes show everything he feels. In them, I see hope, longing, fear and above all I see love, feelings I have seen reflected in his eyes for as many cycles as he and Dulann have been friends.

No, I cannot pretend to be surprised. I always knew this day would come. I just thought I would have more time. I can only imagine that the shock of Dulann's near death made David choose to act now.

The hour draws to a close, and Shai Alyt Neroon gets to his feet, thanking us with great formality for our hospitality. As his entourage bid us farewell, David asks Ashan if he may call on Dulann tomorrow.

This is all part of the ritual. David has stated his desire to court my son. Now, he must leave, as is custom, and wait one day before Dulann can give his reply. A strange look passes between the two young men, one, which I cannot and do not wish to decipher.

Because, even if Dulann is having doubts now, I know what his final answer will be.

 

End - Day I

Minbari language notes:  
"ra Fi'sularae" = of the Star Riders (Warrior Clan)


End file.
